Dishes Wishes

I feel that twitching

Of my fingers itching

To write something good

I could hear my dishes

And laundry; it wishes

I do as I should

But for once (a'right twice)

I t would feel so nice

Just to sit and stay

And make believe

That I am relieved

From my duties today.

Is it too much to ask

Absolved from my task

For, well, just because?

Can there be some break 

Which I can take

From reality and its' laws?

Well, as I sit hear and reckon

The dishes still beckon

No rest for the weary

My laundry don't care

(We need what to wear) 

Regardless the theory.

Hmmm…

I still feel that twitching....

The Caring Theory

I have this theory

That times I am wary

Of people who care,

When they are being nice

And have good advice

That they're willing to share.

Is it something genuine?

Or are they being a heroine?

The motive’s not clear,

I think that I know

The intention will show

Eventually, it will appear.

They say it for my good

And really it could

Yet do I feel myself fear?

If I feel the need

Their words to heed

To do exactly as I hear,

Will they take it as rejection

If I don't use the suggestion

Making it my burden to bear?

Or can they understand

That they can't really understand

...Is that the true meaning of care?

If Only

I could change 

And rearrange

My life, tho' I admit

It would sound strange

That the meaning of words

Will be opposite than heard

All in my control

Without it being absurd

Like

Slow times will pass

     Good times will last

            Difficult people dealings

                Won't lead to bad feelings

            The end will be right when I begin

                And fat would be thin.

          Tired would be awake

     Give instead of take

And to just switch around

   Up, instead of down

If only, 

If only, 

        Up, instead of down.

Unmasked

I wonder what would be

If when you would ask,

"Hi, how are you?"

And I'd take off my mask.

If I'm happy I would share

But also if I'm sad

My voice would reflect

My feelings, good or bad.

When asked how I'm feeling

I have to look at you and see

Can you handle the truth?

Or am I forced to be happy?

I'm starting to get confused

What I'm saying to who

I feel I'm living a lie

'Cause that's what I gotta do.

I'm thinking if the day will come

That I'll take off my mask

And I'm sorta wondering

Will you regret you've asked?